A small key fell out first.
Then a letter.
The moment I saw his handwriting, my chest tightened.
My hands began to shake as I started reading.
My love,
If you’re reading this, then I’m gone… and I’m sorry for what I’m about to ask of you.
There’s something I should have told you a long time ago. Sixty-five years ago, before I met you, I made a choice that I’ve carried with me my entire life.
This key opens a garage. The address is below.
Inside… is the truth.
Please forgive me.
—Harold
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
My head was spinning.
Sixty-five years ago?
Before me?
What truth?
I didn’t think.
I couldn’t.
Within minutes, I grabbed my coat and left the house.
I took a taxi and gave the driver the address from the letter.
The entire ride, my heart wouldn’t stop pounding.
I kept turning the key over in my hand, trying to understand what I was about to find.
The garage was on the edge of the city. Old, forgotten, lined up like relics from another time.
Number 122.
I stood in front of it, my breath shallow.
Part of me wanted to turn around and go home.
Pretend none of this existed.
But I couldn’t.
Not after everything.
I slid the key into the lock.
It turned.
The door creaked open slowly, dust drifting through the air.
CONTINUE READING...>>
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